My Bright New Life Chapter 2

I didn’t go far, just to the convenience store across from the complex, and bought an ice-cold can of cola.

Pulling the tab, bubbles rushed out, hissing enticingly.

I tilted my head back and took a long swig. The icy liquid slid down my throat, carrying a stimulating sweetness that spread through my stomach, igniting every cell in my body.

For three years, to avoid irritating my frail body, I had given up all cold, spicy, and raw foods.

My diet was blander than a monk’s, as uninteresting as plain water.

Alfred always said, “Lilith, be good, it’s for your health.”

Looking back now, it was utterly ironic.

The convenience store’s glass window faced the complex entrance. Soon after, an ambulance wailed into view, then sped away, its flashing lights a grim, ominous sign in the night.

I figured Alfred was on his way to the hospital by now.

Bone cancer pain is a maximum Level 10, comparable to childbirth—a tearing, excruciating agony.

And what he was enduring now was three years’ worth of concentrated, non-stop Level 10 pain.

I wondered how long his arrogant pride would last, or if it would be utterly crushed.

My phone began to vibrate wildly. It was Alfred’s assistant, Jonathan Black.

I ignored the call and blocked the number.

Next, it was Alfred’s mother, Mrs. Moran.

I looked at the number, my thoughts drifting back four years.

Back then, Alfred was the least favored illegitimate child of the Moran family.

He had just been diagnosed with late-stage bone cancer; doctors said he wouldn't live six months without painful and expensive chemotherapy.

The Moran family abandoned him immediately, kicking him out of the house and cutting off all his cards.

When I met him, he was being evicted by his landlord, standing on the street in pouring rain, clutching a cardboard box, dishevelled and utterly defeated, his eyes devoid of light.

His pale face was bloodless, his gaze vacant, as if his soul had been sucked out.

At that time, I was a moderately successful illustrator, having just won a substantial international art award. My future was bright and promising.

On a whim, I walked up to him and held an umbrella over his head, shielding him from the cold drops.

“Are you…alright?”

He looked up, his dark, deep-set eyes meeting mine, wary and distant, like a wounded animal.

“Do you need help?” I asked.

He said nothing, just clutched the cardboard box tighter, his knuckles white.

That day, I took him home.

He thought I was a con artist with ulterior motives, defensive and prickly.

I didn’t explain. I just cooked for him every day, talked to him, took him to art galleries and concerts, slowly melting the ice around his heart.

I told him, “Alfred, death isn’t that scary. What’s scary is not truly living before you die.”

On a beautiful, sunny afternoon, he finally opened up to me.

He told me he had cancer, that he was dying.

He said he didn’t want to die so painfully, didn’t want to lose all his hair during chemo and become an ugly monster.

That night, I held him as he cried brokenly for hours, my heart aching.

And that very night, the Pain Transfer System found me.

【Bind Alfred Moran. All his ailments can be transferred to you, at the cost of your health. Do you accept?】

I barely hesitated, his desperate, suffering face flashing before my eyes.

“I accept.”

The next day, Alfred’s test results came back: his cancer cells had miraculously vanished.

He was ecstatic, spinning me around in his arms, calling me his lucky star, his salvation.

Mrs. Moran showed up around that time too.

She looked at her cured son, then at me, her eyes filled with scrutiny and disdain.

“Tell me, how much will it take for you to leave my son?”

Alfred exploded with anger on the spot. He stepped in front of me like a protective lion. “Mom! Lilith isn’t like that! She’s the only woman I’ll ever marry!”

That was the first, and only, time I received such a firm promise from him, like an eternal vow.

Later, using his exceptional abilities, he returned to Moran Group, rose quickly through the ranks, and eventually became CEO.

Meanwhile, my health deteriorated day by day, like a flower whose nutrients were being drained.

At first, he worried about me, taking me to every major hospital, seeking out renowned doctors.

But all the tests showed I was perfectly normal, which left him confused and increasingly impatient.

Gradually, his patience wore thin.

He started to think I was feigning illness, being overly dramatic, dragging down his progress, a blemish on his otherwise brilliant life.

Until Vivian Summers appeared, becoming the final straw that broke our relationship.

“Ding-a-ling.”

The convenience store door chimed, interrupting my memories.

Mrs. Moran, dressed in a Chanel suit, flanked by two bodyguards, marched towards me, her face alight with arrogance and fury.

Her well-maintained face was ablaze with anger. She slammed an envelope onto the table in front of me, making a crisp sound.

“Lilith Winters! You jinx! Here’s a million dollars, now get out of A City immediately and never show your face to Alfred again!”